


i miss the man i thought i was

by iknowhowmystoryends (gorgeouschaos)



Series: If Supernatural was on HBO [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Angst, If Supernatural (TV) Were on HBO, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal actions but no suicide, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28532319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeouschaos/pseuds/iknowhowmystoryends
Summary: They nearly die a hundred times, together and apart. But Cas holds on and holds on and holds on, because he’s never learned how to let go of anything besides who he is.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: If Supernatural was on HBO [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040013
Comments: 16
Kudos: 82





	i miss the man i thought i was

**Author's Note:**

> Title from House of Leaves by MZD. Full quote is "i miss the man i thought i was before i met her."  
> Please see tags for warnings and feel free to ask if you have any questions.  
> As always, a thousand thank yous to cenotaphy.

Here’s the thing: when Sam says yes, Dean isn’t surprised. 

Cas isn’t either. 

That doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t get blackout drunk the night the news gets to Camp Chitaqua, or that Cas isn’t right behind him.

Dean tastes like whiskey when he kisses Cas, that night. He wants to go further, strips out of his shirt and climbs into Cas’ lap, but Cas doesn’t let him, because Cas is a slut and most of the way to drunk but he will not be _that guy_.

Dean gives up after a few minutes and just buries his face in Cas’ neck. He doesn’t so much as make a noise, because John Winchester was nothing if not thorough, but Dean’s shoulders shake and Cas’ neck grows wet. 

Cas holds on and holds on and holds on, because he’s never learned how to let go of anything besides who he is.

Cas doesn’t hold on tight enough to notice Dean leaving in the middle of the night, though. He wakes up to an empty bed and a missing angel blade and isn’t surprised by that either. 

In the case of Dean going missing, Cas is in charge. He manages to keep it together for six days. The evening of the seventh day-- it’s a Thursday, because of course it fucking is-- Cas sits on the floor of his shitty cabin, legs neatly folded, and swallows half a bottle of Percocet with half a bottle of Dean’s whiskey.

Cas is curled up on the floor when Dean opens the door to Cas’ cabin. He looks exhausted, and there’s a line of rough stitches over his eyebrow, but when he sees Cas, his lips twitch into something like a smile.

And Cas starts laughing, because that means this isn’t real, because Dean’s dead. And even if he isn’t, Dean doesn’t smile anymore. And even if he did, it wouldn’t be at Cas. 

Not-Dean sees the pill bottle and the smile drops off his face. “You _motherfucker_ ,” he snarls as Cas’ vision goes black, and yeah, that’s more like it. 

Cas wakes up. He’s not sure if he was intending to or not. 

Dean’s got Cas’ hand between his. Dean’s forehead is pressed against his folded hands, and he’s murmuring something, his breath hot against Cas’ hand.

Cas catches _St. Michael the Archangel_ before Dean realizes he’s awake and drops his hand. 

“Dean,” Cas manages, but Dean’s already out the door. 

They don’t talk about it, because that’s not what they do. Dean presses Cas’ hand to the fading brand on his shoulder as they fuck and they share a cigarette after and that’s enough.

The next time Dean goes missing, Cas fucks a new person every night. Always in their beds, though, never in his.

The night after Dean gets back, Cas fucks Chris.

Dean fucks Henriksen that same night.

They both wind up back in Dean’s bed. Dean takes a long swallow of whiskey, one arm wrapped around Cas, and says, “I can’t lose you.”

It sounds a lot like _I love you_. 

“You won’t,” Cas says, the closest Dean will let him say to _I love you too_.

Dean takes another mouthful of whiskey, kisses Cas, presses the booze into his mouth. Cas lets him. 

Dean always tastes like whiskey and smoke after that, no matter how hard Cas tries to find something else in his mouth. That’s okay. Cas is pretty sure Dean’s still hoping to taste Grace when they kiss and getting only Percocet and Adderall.

They nearly die a hundred times, together and apart. 

(Dean fucks Cas against the wall after they live through an ambush on a survival run.

“I can’t lose you,” Dean pants in Cas’ ear, calloused hands gripping his hips. “I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Cas manages. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dean snarls, and then they’re both too out of breath to talk.

Dean nearly puts a bullet through his head on a night that’s no different from any other and Cas talks him down.

Cas pops Percocet like it’s candy and Dean hides the booze.

On the anniversary of Sam saying yes, they smoke pot on their rickety porch and watch the stars fall out of the sky until Dean says, smoke trickling out of his mouth, “I miss him. And I miss who I used to be.”

“Me too,” Cas says, because there’s nothing else to say.)

They nearly die a hundred times, together and apart. But they live for each other instead. 

The night before past Dean appears, Cas fucks Dean in front of Henriksen just to make a point. Dean lets it happen. 

_Mine_ , Cas thinks, savage as only a human can be. _Mine_. 

Dean lets him.

The night after they go after Lucifer, they both stay sober. There’s no sex, just Cas wrapped around Dean like he can hold on tight enough this time.

“I don’t regret it,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s neck as the sun comes up. “You know that? I don’t regret you.”

“You should.”

“Probably,” Cas agrees. “But I don’t. None of it.” Not the way the ragged edges of where his Grace was cut into his skull, not the fighting or the fucking or the way no high compares to the way Dean used to look at him.

“I--” Dean clears his throat. “You know that I…”

“I know,” Cas says. “I know, Dean.”

And he does. 

He just wishes it was enough. 

(The last prayer Cas ever says, he says while he’s loading his assault rifle. He doesn’t fold his hands, doesn’t direct it to anyone in particular, just begs silently: _let me die before he does_.

It’s the only prayer of his that God ever answers.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it, and I love hearing from y'all.


End file.
